


The Little Things Give You Away

by curiositykilled



Series: Being Frostiron in an Avengers World [1]
Category: Norse - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, FrostIron - Freeform, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:16:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiositykilled/pseuds/curiositykilled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's girlfriend starts to seem like she might not be who she said she was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

           Tony knew she wasn’t human the morning after the first time they had sex – though, truthfully, he’d had a pretty good guess for a while before that ( _and no, Steve, it isn’t because I think no mortal woman would turn down a chance for sex with me._ ). JARVIS had admitted the worrying confession that he could gather no information on her vitals and that there was some sort of energy about her similar to readings off of Stephen Strange. Not real encouraging. Regardless, he stuck with it, and he really didn’t get too suspicious until the drinking challenge.  
           The whole team had been nagging him recently about how much he drank, each in their own way; Steve would level those disappointed baby blues on him, Natasha and Clint began smuggling away bottles, and Bruce would gingerly suggest another beverage choice. Only Thor didn’t mention it, but he also found little wrong with scotch for breakfast, which didn’t exactly reassure any of them. He supposed he should have been suspicious that she didn’t nag him at all, but she had never really been one to comment on his less-than-appealing habits; when he’d disappear into his labs without food or drink, she’d either join him or vanish as well for a time, and whenever he tried to brush off his nightmares as nothing, she’d wrap her lean body around him and add to the joking armor he wore. She’d just never seemed too concerned about his self-destruction. It was refreshing – and for some reason, left a burning pang in his chest.  
           This was why he wasn’t expecting her to sit two tumblers and a bottle of vodka (at the time, he’d laughed and asked if she couldn’t think of a worse choice for shots on a sunny afternoon) on the counter between them. He was perched on one of the stools and quirked and eyebrow, but her poison green eyes had remained steady and solemn as she delivered her ultimatum: they were going to have a drinking challenge, and if she won, he would lay off the drinking-himself-into-a-stupor and would only drink responsibly. If he won, she would never again mention it. But – she’d added with a cool edge to her voice that sent shivers down his back that weren’t entirely out of fear – if he lost and broke his word, she would give every bit of his tech to SHIELD, personally. And, given the fact that she’d hacked into JARVIS within their first week of dating, it wasn’t really an idle threat.  
           He’d agreed, of course, because it was ridiculous. Sure, she’d have a drink every now and then, but it was usually one drink a day, with good reason. Tall though she was, she was slim and looked as if two beers in an hour would knock her flat. There was no reason for him to expect her to down eight shots like water and be perfectly sober by the time they’d gotten six more down and Tony’s world was spinning.  
           “Oh, fuck,” he muttered, listing sideways.  
           “Oh, love,” she’d whispered, suddenly at his side to catch him.  
           Even with his weight almost entirely on her side, she moved gracefully and surely to lead him to their shared bedroom and settle him in. A few soft words and the lights had dimmed as JARVIS darkened the window.  
           “So, I lost?” Tony slurred, curled up on his side.  
           “Mm,” she hummed, leaning forward to kiss his temple, “Just sleep.”  
           He was too hazy at the moment to notice the sudden relief and calm that spread from her lips’ contact out to the rest of his body. Later, he’d question why he didn’t have a hangover in the same way he’d questioned her lack of bruises that first morning, but right now, her long fingers gently carding through his hair was enough to lull any suspicions into nothing.


	2. Nightmares

           The nightmares scared Tony. It wasn’t that he thought he held a monopoly on traumatic, nightmare-inducing events, but she never let even the slightest hint of weakness slip through her mask, and seeing her broken was too much for him. He’d tried to treat them the same way that she did his – with gentle teasing and jokes to ease their mood – but somehow, it hurt him too much to treat her wide-eyed, stiff-bodied terrors with such levity. She was a precious thing meant to be valued and loved, not shattered with eyes blown wide with fear.  
           (Absently, he knew he shouldn’t think of her that way – she was hardly a damsel in distress. She was strong and brilliant and tough in ways that a twenty-something-year-old had no right to be. Which was exactly why he bristled so badly at the thought of someone hurting her.)  
           “Hey, shh, it’s okay,” he promised, rubbing circles into her back.  
           He wasn’t sure if it was the sweat, cooled by the open window’s breeze, that was giving her skin such a chilly feel – not that it really mattered, but his brain had to focus on something, anything other than her fear. At the moment, she was curled up and pulled away from him, her long legs tucked up against her chest and arms pressed even closer. The green of her eyes was almost entirely gone, replaced with an unfathomable black that reminded him a little too much of his own dreams of falling, falling, falling through the void.  
           “Please, no – no, I swear,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, “I’ll do anything, just please – stop!”  
           The first time, he’d learned not to try to hug her or pull her close – even his fingertips were enough to send shudders down her body. Instead, he just sat close to her with only his hand as a contact point. Her shoulders shook as her breathing struggled to level out into something other than panicky gasps, and her lithe fingers had wrapped themselves into the sheet, twisting and gripping as if to a rope – whether to prevent the noose from cinching or cling to the boat’s lifeline, Tony would have been hard-pressed to say.  
           “JARVIS, what time is it?” Tony asked softly, continuing to trace scars down her spine.  
           She’d told him, when he asked, that they were from whips. He still wasn’t sure whether she was lying.  
           “Three o’seven, sir,” the AI responded in an equally soft tone, “I have scheduled a message for Captain Rogers to postpone their lunch.”  
           Not for the first time, Tony wondered if he’d somehow made his AI more human than he meant to; JARVIS showed clear preference for certain people and dislike for others, and she had long been his favorite. Anytime one of these attacks occurred, the AI automatically lifted the darkness just enough to add a soft, dim light around the edges, cancelled immediate appointments and spoke only in the most hushed, lulling tones.  
           “Thanks, J,” he sighed, laying back down a slight bit away from her with his fingers lingering on her back.  
           Someday, one day, he’d figure out how to fix this pain she felt – he could, he knew it, if he just worked at it enough – and take it away so she could sleep without fear of waking screaming. Until then, he had only to lay back and wait for the terror to subside.  
           Later that morning, when the fear had finally faded, Tony reached over and rested his hand fully on her shoulder, the thumb rubbing gently. She was not the cuddling type – he’d discovered that rather early on in their relationship – and even less so after a nightmare.  
           “You want breakfast?” he asked.  
           It was the closest he’d ever get to asking her if she was okay (they both knew she would lie to that question), and he was hanging on her answer with a nervous trepidation he was loathe to admit.  
           “Yeah,” she replied after a moment, releasing a soft breath, “I’ll be in in a minute.”  
           Having rolled partially out of bed, he hesitated. He hated leaving her in here alone after a nightmare, knew too well how destructive a creative mind could be when fear was its fodder.  
           “I want to take a shower,” she explained, before adding, “Alone.”  
           Caught, he grinned faintly at her before nodding and standing up. Admittedly, he would much rather join her – but he got it. Anyway, he didn’t actually know if they had food for breakfast, and it would take a little bit of time if he needed to order something.  
           Luckily, the kitchen was mostly stocked, and he began pulling eggs and vegetables and other necessary omelet-ingredients out before turning on the stove; eggs were one thing he could consistently cook well, and she always liked when he made breakfast. Most of this, he did by muscle memory and let his mind work over her nightmares, seeking a remedy.  
           He’d noticed, reluctantly, that they were always more common after being around the rest of the Avengers – namely, the men. She was perfectly at ease – or at least, seemed so, because she was an Oscar-worthy actress and he would never really know if she was uncomfortable unless she wanted him to – when they were around the team; she’d laugh and tease and prod just as much as any of them, but anytime they spent more one-on-one time with Thor or Steve or Clint (but especially Thor and Clint, which didn’t make much sense), he’d wake in the night to her strangled, broken begging.  
            _That,_ he mused, was what really tore him to pieces. She did not beg. She did not plead. She rarely even asked. She could wheedle and persuade and demand like none other, but she did not allow her opponent to think that they had any power over her with what decision they handed out. In the end, they almost always caved, anyway. To hear her begging – especially coupled with the apparent trigger – set his nerves on fire. _How_ dare _they –_  
He cut off that angry fire as she strolled in, black hair still wet and shoved unceremoniously into a half-hearted knot. She was wearing a loose long sleeve and off-white shorts that made her legs stretch on for miles of ivory perfection, and her eyes were wholly green now. It relieved and yet needled at him how well she hid her cracks.  
           “Mm, omelets,” she purred happily, perching on one of the barstools.  
           “Yeah, figured you wouldn’t be game for a protein shake,” he replied.  
           As expected, her nose wrinkled up in disgust. She had never been able to understand how he could survive on such a ‘meager, revolting’ diet, which was why she was the one who knew when they were out of food or needed more of something even though Tony was the one who often cooked.  
They were quiet for a time, him watching the egg solidify into a honey-edged circle and her watching the city through the window. There wasn’t much to see from this high up, but she’d always loved the sky.  
           “So – I uh. This is horribly – I mean, if you don’t want to answer, I get it – it’s – it’s totally fine,” Tony started once he’d slid her plate over and no longer had anything with which to occupy his hands.  
           “Tony,” she prompted.  
           “Yeah, yeah – sorry. I just – yeah, anyway,” he hesitated, more intimidated by the question he wanted to ask – didn’t really _want_ to, just felt he needed to know – than her bemused expression warranted. Taking a deep breath, he spat it out, “Were you raped?”  
           Her jade eyes shot wide in surprise before narrowing and glancing away so that he could mostly just see her profile. It was enough to see muscles working along her jaw and her half-hooded eyes. Instant regret soured in his stomach.  
           “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have – I just – no, it was dumb,” he stammered.  
           “Yes,” she interrupted softly.  
           He paused, unsure of whether she meant yes, it was dumb or yes, she’d been raped. Possibly both – though, hopefully, the former.  
           “To which?” he entreated cautiously.  
           “All,” she replied, a sparkle of amusement entering her eyes as she flicked her gaze over to him, “I was… raped – and yes, that is part of the night terrors.”  
           “Jesus, honey,” he breathed, catching a long fingered hand and holding it tightly, “I’m sorry. I just – I want to help you, and I…I really hoped I was wrong.”  
           “You can’t fix me, Tony,” she smiled a cold smile.  
           His shoulders slumped slightly despite himself because they’d had this argument before, and she always saw him as trying to fix her – as if there was something inherently wrong with her – instead of trying to help her mend the same way Pepper had so long ago helped him.  
           “You know I’m no-” he started before JARVIS cut in.  
           “Sir, Director Fury is on the phone. It’s urgent,” the AI announced.  
           “Go fix the world and leave me my cracks,” she suggested, her voice still that side of frosty.  
           And, standing, she stalked from the room with a sort of angry grace that defied any sort of logic. Tony paused to glare at their door in frustration before sighing and tapping the ‘answer’ symbol on the counter.  
           “Who’s trying to take over today?” he deadpanned.


	3. Meet the Avengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If even Natasha was snowed, who was there to turn to?

“You’re not worried, are you?” he checked again, worried, “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot; I just – they’ve all been wanting to – I should have kept my mouth shut.”  
She glanced over her shoulder, lips pressed to stifle laughter at his chagrined expression, and paused in the middle of slipping a hoop into her ear. The screen on her laptop was running a live feed courtesy of JARVIS, and on it, Tony was pacing anxiously with his hands in his hair.  
“Love, I wouldn’t have agreed if I didn’t want to,” she chuckled.  
“Oh. You’re sure? ‘Cause really-” he started again.  
“Tony. Go check to see if the food is ready,” she suggested.  
Both knew that JARVIS could easily tell them the answer to that, just as much as they knew that that wasn’t the point. If she was going to get a chance to finish getting ready, he needed to get the hell out. So, he did, and she sighed and leaned back to check her reflection.  
Cupid’s bow lips were left their natural soft blush that was just dark enough to stand out against her snow-white skin, and her hair floated gently down to her shoulderblades in black waves. Despite her words, she was…uneasy about meeting with the Avengers again.  
“JARVIS?” she called softly.  
“Yes?” the AI replied from her laptop.  
“I…nevermind,” she sighed, rubbing her temple tiredly.  
“Yes, miss,” JARVIS answered politely.  
Pepper and Steve were, unsurprisingly, the first to arrive. The new Mrs. Rogers was all aglow with brilliant cheer and contentment; though her and Tony’s split had been mostly mutual, she had perhaps been more ready than him. She'd kept her job at his insistence, despite her very qualified point that she could easily find another job if it would be too awkward for him. (He didn't miss that it would be awkward for _him_ but not _her_ \- as if he was so childish. Which, ok, maybe he was. Still.)   
"Hey," Pepper greeted zealously.  
"Hey, Pep, Capsicle," Tony grinned in reply.  
"Hey, Tony," Steve answered, his fingers interlaced with his wife’s.  
Even though Pepper was not exactly the hand holding type (Tony had definitely appreciated that during their relationship), Steve had always been the one to keep close to his girlfriend-then-wife, and it was, after much teasing and taunting, accepted as a cute, odd little idiosyncrasy.   
“Evening.”  
Tony didn’t have to turn to know who’d just stepped in the door, and his smile widened into a ridiculous grin as quiet heels whispered across the floor. She was tall enough to avoid high heels and instead had on black flats that hushed over the floor soundlessly as she strolled through the door and paused with a lazy smile beside Tony.  
“Oh – uh _wow_. Hi,” Pepper stammered, caught off guad.  
She was well used to Tony’s great taste and hadn’t expected someone he’d gotten so close to to be ugly, but well – wow. This woman was a dark-haired, jade-eyed bombshell.   
“Hello, miss,” Steve greeted, holding out his hand to shake, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
Tony made the proper introductions, telling them her name and sending them off to the bar as the rest of the team started showing up. They were all surprised and entranced by this new nymph, and soon, the whole crowd of them was talking and laughing as if in the company of one of their oldest friends. Feeling that same prickle of suspicion he’d felt two months ago, when she’d woken with a strangled gasp and he’d seen the bruises fade, Tony slipped up to the crowd with all the nonchalance as could be and gently tugged on Natasha’s elbow.  
“What?” she queried, her eyes somewhat softened by the faint smile on her lips.  
 _Oh god, she’s got Natasha, too._ Tony briefly panicked. If Natasha was this at ease around her, there was no way she could tell Tony if something was amiss with her, and then what? Tony was a genius, yeah, but that was hardly referring to an interpersonal level. If she was up to something, plotting somehow to use him – he’d never have a chance.  
 _Or, y’know, you could just be way the fuck overthinking this because she’s too good for you, and you know it._ Yeah, there was always that.  
“I uh – can we talk for a moment? Away from here,” he nearly pleaded.  
The lingering smile vanished to be replaced with an equally-faint frown, and Natasha nodded, turning away from the group. Walking down the hallway a short bit (they could always say they were looking for a specific liquor in one of the other bars), they were silent until Tony figured no one in the other room could hear them.  
“What is it, Tony?” Natasha demanded.  
“I – uh, well, listen. I really, really like this girl – she’s incredible, I mean, way too good for me – I know it, and uh-” he stammered.  
“You don’t want us to spook her off,” Natasha finished flatly, “Tony, we like her, too; she’s friendly and smart and is either the best liar in the world or nearly as truthful as Steve. She’s good.”  
“Yeah, it’s that last bit I’m worried about,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.  
Natasha’s frown deepened.  
“What do you mean?” she queried  
“I – well, I’m pretty good at calling out bullshit, and you’re the best and if neither of us can tell if she’s lying,” he hesitated, voice trailing off. _We’re fucked._  
“Oh,” she breathed, and Tony was startled that she hadn’t already thought of that, “Yeah, that’s a problem. Has she done anything suspicious?”  
“No, not really,” Tony confessed – he could leave out the whole ‘not human’ part for now – “I just – good things don’t really happen to me without a big catch.”  
Natasha smiled genuinely then and gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze.  
“Tony, just accept this. She’s a great woman and she definitely seems to care about you. If something really bad happens, we’ll fix it, like always,” she promised, “Now get in there and act like an idiot – it’s weird to have you sulking.”  
He laughed and nodded, letting relief wash over him. _Alright. This is gonna’ work._ After all, it wasn’t like she could throw anything at them that the Avengers hadn’t already seen, conquered and cleaned up after. They were fine.


	4. Brothers Know Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sure, he'd had his suspicions, but if Thor, his own brother, thought she was him..."

It didn’t take a super spy to notice Thor’s long, sad looks at her. Tony wasn’t worried, per se – he knew how head-over-heels Thor was with Jane, and he really seriously doubted that his girlfriend would steal him away. Still, it was…weird.   
“So uh, how are you and Point Break?” Tony asked, sending a hologram whizzing as he studied its structure.  
Jane, half-hidden behind her folders and holograms, glanced over with a hint of suspicion and a faint smile.  
“We’re doing fine. Why?” she answered.  
“I was just wondering. He ever mention what he thinks of my girl?” he prompted.  
He eyes narrowed before rolling, because of course. Tony Stark, for whatever else he may be, was not overly interested in others’ personal lives.  
“She reminds him of Loki,” she replied brusquely, turning back to her work.  
Tony froze, trying to swallow. Something – fear? Relief? Disappointment? – worked its way into a lump in his throat. Sure, he’d had his suspicions, but if Thor, _Loki’s own brother_ thought she was him…  
“You don’t say. I thought Loki was a guy,” he tried to offer casually.  
“Shapeshifter,” Jane sighed, flicking something across her screen, “Apparently, as a woman, he looked a lot like your girlfriend. Why do you care?”  
“I wanna’ know if I’m sleeping with my friend’s little brother, of course,” Tony snorted, and it was really, _really_ disconcerting to know that the statement was zero percent jest.  
Jane leveled an icy gaze across at him that could put _hers_ to shame.  
“If you so much as mention this to Thor, I will let Steve know,” she warned, arms crossed, “You know how beat up Thor still is about Loki’s death, and your girlfriend looking like him is not an excuse for you to be a total jackass. “  
Holding up his hands, Tony backed a step away even though they already had most a room between them. Of course, why couldn’t he remember that none of them remembered that Loki _hadn’t_ died when he took that little plunge off the Bifrost? _Silly me._  
“Hey, hey, calm down. I’m not going to do anything. Thor just kept giving her these – these looks and I wanted to know,” he explained, startling himself with the truth rather than some jovial joke.  
She still didn’t entirely relax, those brown eyes cold as stone, but Jane seemed to accept that Tony wasn’t going to run off and taunt Thor to blows (which, in all honesty, were more likely than seeing the Thunderer weep), if only because Steve could lay the inventor low with one disappointed sweep of his gaze. 

The rest of their time there was silence until nine o’clock rolled around and she came to fetch Tony for dinner and remind Jane that Thor was waiting, and Darcy was really sorry but she just couldn’t get away to come rescue Jane from her own self-neglecting genius. Jane had laughed, flushing slightly at the other woman’s light words and closed down her station as Tony did the same. The team had, some time ago, gotten really very appreciative of her ability to smooth talk any of the scientists away from their labs – she was the only failproof method they had of ensuring the trio ever ate or slept – or, most importantly, showered.  
“Where’re we eating?” Tony queried, fingers brushing absently against hers.  
“I assumed the kitchen, unless you’d prefer the roof,” she replied, ignoring the contact.  
He nodded and tucked his hands into his pockets absently, letting quiet fill their elevator ride up to their penthouse.  
“So, Thor thinks you look like his brother,” he announced after roughly a minute.  
She started in surprise, turning wary eyes his way.  
“Pardon?”   
“You know, Loki – evil shapeshifter guy? Tried to take over the world two or so years ago? Apparently, he liked to turn into a chick every now and then and he-she looked just like you,” he explained.  
Her jaw had tightened and her glare narrowed.  
“I am well aware of whom Thor’s brother is,” she replied coolly, “and what does it matter?”  
 _Yeah, I bet._ Tony managed, somehow, to keep that particularly reply down. By god, was his self-control stunning.  
“Well, I don’t know. I guess I figured you’d want to know why he keeps giving you those weepy looks,” he shrugged nonchalantly.  
Averting her gaze slightly, she watched the numbers flick upwards on the screen. Finally, just before the doors opened, she replied.  
“I’ll talk to him,” she promised softly.  
Three days later, Thor’s eyes lit with the same friendliness as everyone else at the sight of her, and there was never again mention of what Loki looked like as a woman. Tony bit down his tumult and silently prayed that the others were right and his memories false, because only insanity seemed like a possible alternate to the other conclusion screaming in his face.


	5. Amnesia

The lab was eerily quiet; shortly after Bruce had wandered in, JARVIS had muted the music, and Tony hadn’t really noticed. His head was so caught up in his idea for self-repairing armor – _and long pale legs, eyes like fire, biting ki_ \- for him to pay much attention, even when both Thor and Clint meandered down to the lab.   
The two non-scientists settled down in respective corners, Thor to polish his armor and Clint to bind new arrows. While Thor’s armor was enchanted and needed little mending and Clint could just order new arrows through SHIELD’s R&D department, no one had ever really questioned their habits; all of them had habitual ticks.  
Finally, two hours after everyone had congregated, Tony hit on the right algorithm. Grinning like a madman and crossing his arms proudly, he watched the screen flick through the diagnostics with a predatory sense of satisfaction. _You little fucker, thought you’d get me._  
“Who brought the birthday cake?” Clint queried in a snort.  
Thor, grinning absently, opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed someone hit him in the throat and his face crumpled. Swallowing hard, he suddenly turned his gaze to the floor, the muscles in his jaw working. Then, he simply gathered his armor and left without another word. Two pairs of startled eyes watched after while the third darkened and turned back to the floor. For once, Tony wasn’t the one who’d done his reading.  
“Um…what the hell was that?” Tony demanded.  
“I asked him about his brother,” Clint started quietly – and Tony didn’t even bother interrupting because _Clint?_ Asking about _Loki?_ No, he was definitely hallucinating – “He committed suicide, you know, half a year before the Chitauri. Thor said he was a lot like you.”  
That was all it took to have Tony’s world spinning, because Loki hadn’t committed suicide. He’d buddied up with a fuckton of freaky aliens and gotten his ass pounded. From the way Clint was looking at him, Tony knew that Thor hadn’t compared Baby Brother to Bruce, and that just wasn’t okay either. Suspicion burnt hot in the pit of his stomach, and suddenly, instead of being distracted by ivory skin sliding over his own, he was much more concerned with this lab and a certain god of chaos.  
“Uh – _before_ the Chitauri?” he asked, somehow managing not to demand ‘The fuck is wrong with you, asshole?’ or ‘Haha, very funny – go fuck yourself.’  
“Yeah,” Bruce was nodding now, “I think I saw something in SHIELD’s folder back when we were on the Helicarrier – before the uh, Other Guy showed up.”  
Once Bruce agreed, Tony didn’t bother objecting. He knew Bruce wouldn’t joke about something like this, knew that the other scientist was too aware of everyone’s feelings ( _side effect of watching his own?_ ) to make such a crude prank.  
“Uh-huh,” Tony muttered, hacking into SHIELD with ease born of practice.  
Sure enough, a quick search for ‘Loki’ revealed only one hit –a brief mention of Thor’s adopted brother, deceased. Sitting back in his chair, the inventor tried to wrap his head around this. So. _So._ Loki was apparently not safely ensconced in an Asgardian prison, and he was wiping SHIELD files as well as Avenger memories. _Well, that’s fucking great._  
Running his hands back through his hair, Tony ignored his companions’ odd looks and forced himself to think.  
“So – Loki didn’t have anything to do with brainwashing people or pissing off Big Green?” he checked.  
He didn’t know much about amnesia, especially the forcefully-induced kind, but there was always the chance, however slim, that something would trigger a memory. Three months ago, Clint had still shown up with dark, haunted circles beneath his eyes, and Bruce had avoided most the team – especially Natasha – for fear of waking the Hulk. If those memories weren’t strong enough to remind them, all bets were off.  
“The fuck are you talking about?” Clint asked sharply.  
 _Nothing, nothing – just losing my fucking mind apparently. Oh shit._  
“Nothing, nevermind,” Tony muttered, closing down his station and heading out, because _holy fuck_ he needed a drink.  
Bruce stared after, a concerned little frown wrinkling his forehead, and Clint’s pale blue eyes narrowed, but Tony kept walking till he made it to the bar where he figured she’d be, and _thank god._  
“Hey,” he breathed, sliding in beside her.  
Long hair loose down past her shoulders, the black wisps only barely softened her sharp, inquisitive green eyes as she glanced across at him; part of him was glad of them, because he had a feeling her gaze could strip him to the bone and the secrets and lies supporting him. The other part was stifling the stir of memories of those same eyes half-obscured by hanging black hair and darkened by lust.  
“You reek of oil,” she pointed out mildly.  
He paused a moment to sniff and wrinkle up his nose in disgust before shrugging. He hadn’t really thought after hearing Clint’s small ‘discovery’ about Loki and had more or less just let his feet take him where they would.  
“Yeah,” he agreed.  
Something akin to a smile flickered at the corners of her eyes, but any movement of her lips was hidden behind the rim of her glass as she took a drink. He flicked his fingers up to catch the bartender and ordered his typical scotch, downing it faster than he’d previously thought possible (and given that he was pretty sure he’d long held the record on fastest-shotgunner ever, it was pretty damn fast).  
He should get back to the tower, run this insanity by Natasha (there was no way any sort of mind control could work on that woman) and figure it out, but he was already feeling himself calm down beside his bar-buddy. She has impeccable timing, he’d discovered (or somehow knows how to predict when he’ll show up, even when it’s six in the evening and really not time to drink), and he didn’t press why they were both there at the same time.  
“You want to go out tonight?” he asked abruptly, “Not just to the tower or your place but out – a movie or something?”  
Startled, she paused to blink once before swallowing the rest of her drink slowly.  
“Yes,” she answered softly, “I would like that.”  
It was their first date, and after that, Tony stopped thinking so much about the Avengers’ forgotten horrors, because she at least understood when he mentioned, hesitantly, testingly, the invasion and Loki’s part. That was enough to reassure him that he wasn’t really crazy, and it certainly helped that he found all the missing SHIELD files on a backup drive on his own network. Why they were there and not on SHIELD’s – well, it didn’t really matter. Loki didn’t show his face for a very long time.


	6. Epiphany - Finale

It was one of the few times Tony woke up before her. She’d always claimed not to need much sleep, and her ability to stay awake surpassed even his by an impressive extent, but this time, he’d managed to drift into consciousness while she still slept. It was a needed few moments of stillness for him to gather and think.  
She had, also strangely, actually nestled up next to him with her head on his shoulder and hand resting on the arc reactor while she slept. It was perhaps a testament to how far gone he was that he felt no panic or discomfort at her hand’s placement; no one else could even reach for it, and yet, her hand gently cupping it did no more than send a small thrill of pleasure that she was close. _Yep, definitely doomed._  
Especially if she was really the he he thought she was.  
It should have alarmed him, back when they first met, that there was no record of her existence at all on Earth – at the time, he’d chalked it up to her having similar scans as Doc Strange – which, again, should have really worried him a lot more than it did, but he’d been hurting and just looking for someone to take away the pain that his and Pepper’s split had caused. She had not been that salve.  
She’d been fire and sarcasm and wit and brilliance – in a way that no one had been before. She could talk about quantum physics or advanced music theory or astronomy without missing a beat, and she was one of very few people who could keep up with his nonstop brain and even sometimes correct him. He’d sought her out for her mile-long legs and beautifully endowed chest and ended up talking until the bar closed. He hadn’t even thought to buy the bar or invite her home immediately; somehow, he knew, the gesture would only turn her away.  
After that, they had… _miraculously_ bumped into each other several more times before he finally persuaded her to go on an actual date with him – which had ended the same as the first night, only this time, it was a five star restaurant closing around them – and then, several months later, they ended up at his place. The rest had been natural; she gradually stayed longer and more often and eventually sold her apartment for a pretty sum. The Avengers had fallen for her without thought, and Pepper, Happy and the press had been pressing to know if an engagement was forthcoming.  
Then, five months ago, he started to notice these stupid, tiny little giveaways that were maybe less than he was making them, but altogether were pretty damning.  
Thor had always maintained that even the smallest of Asgardians had an alcohol tolerance that would wipe out New York.  
Clint had explained, before he forgot everything, that Loki’s willingness to act as Thanos’ herald had perhaps been a little less willing than they’d like to think.  
Natasha had once complained about being set against the greatest liar in all the universes.  
(It was strange to note that that was the one and only time she’d ever complained. Somehow, Tony couldn’t help but feel that Loki had perhaps left more clues than the genius had first thought.)  
Jane had mentioned that Loki’s female form had long legs, pale skin and eyes like venom.  
They had all, save Tony, forgotten. (And if that didn’t ring of Ragnarok, then what did?)  
And that wasn't even including her honeyed way with words or ability to possibly out-eat Thor. All in all, the evidence was screaming one four-lettered, hated word at him.   
She shifted against him, nestling closer as her cool hand slid up to his shoulder in a loosely possessive, one-armed hug. Her hair was tousled and fluffed up like Helena Bonham-Carter despite their having dropped almost immediately into oblivion the night before, and he knew that for the first moment when she opened her eyes, they’d be a soft, affectionate green before they hardened into their customary flint. In the morning light, she was a soft golden mess around him – so far removed from the hard silver of her night-borne terrors as to be an entirely different being, and yet he knew that side of her and loved the duality more than he wanted to admit. Honestly, he lo- _nope. Not if she’s secretly a fucking evil god. Not happening._  
“Mmm, Tony?” she mumbled into his chest.  
“Yeah?” he asked.  
“Go back to sleep,” she suggested, “I can hear the gears turning from here.”  
“You know you love it,” he replied quietly.  
“Mm,” she breathed, cool air hushing over his skin, “Only because I love you.”  
At that, he froze. _No, no there’s no way. You definitely heard that wrong._  
“Uh…ha – right,” he stammered.  
She lifted her head, the frown on her face a mix of confusion and sleepiness, to stare at him before moving slightly away and laying back with her head on her pillow.  
“You really think I would jest?” she demanded.  
“You seem to be damn good at lying about everything else, _Loki_ ,” he snapped despite himself.  
She tightened, and if Tony hadn’t already been disgruntled by the lack of her cool form against his side, he might have noticed the sudden temperature drop in the room.  
“You are fully able to throw me to your Avengers, Tony,” she retorted, “I have never sought your protection.”  
“Yeah, maybe I would – if they hadn’t all had their memories wiped. Nice little trick, that – I can think of a lot of cowards who’d want it,” he rejoined.  
If he didn’t know better, he would think her teeth about ground to chalk dust by now.  
“I have no need of spells to hide myself from your petty team,” she growled.  
“Yeah, right. So the memory spells on everyone but me was what? Just to fuck with me?” he shot back.  
“They were to let them forget!” she hissed, “A courtesy never yet extended to me. I did not desire _you_ to be unaware of whom you were involved with.”  
“Oh, really, you just – oh,” he paused, understanding clicking, “So that’s why Thor doesn’t look at you and think… Oh.”  
It didn’t really wipe away anything – didn’t make Loki somehow redeemed – but it startled Tony enough to halt the fear and anger and betrayal he’d felt over the last few months. It actually sort of made sense. Ask any of the Avengers what their most painful memories of the last decade had been and five of six would probably answer ‘Loki.’ (Bruce, admittedly, had had a few bigger, greener problems) And why else would Tony remember? It wasn’t like he was powerless on his own, especially not with all the files preserved on JARVIS’ back-up. If Loki _had_ really been planning to screw them over, she probably wouldn’t have done that.  
“Shit,” he muttered.  
From the corner of his eye, he saw her hand reach up and rub her forehead.  
“I…so. You actually, you know,” he hesitated – the word sounded so cheap coming from him, “I sort of figured gods took a while to fall in love, being immortal and all.”  
“Yes, well, I’m hardly a standing god,” she snapped.  
He winced, mentally smacking himself for fucking this up, too.  
“So you aren’t going to go subjugate Manhattan or anything?” he asked instead.  
“Had I intended to do so, I would have by now,” she retorted.  
“Right. Look, I’m sorry, but this is all a little much for me. I had kind of figured you weren’t just a girl from the hood and all, but finding out you’re actually Loki – as in the guy who tried to take over the world, failed and was pretty irredeemably evil – and you aren’t, well, evil? It’s a lot,” he huffed.  
Tense silence reigned for a moment before she sighed and dropped her hand.  
“I am aware. I had merely planned to have this conversation at some time other than five in the morning,” she sighed, adding under her breath, “Preferably, over liquor.”  
He bit back a grin and turned his head to look at her.  
“Five? Fuck, get back over here. The designated Deep Talks Time ended two hours ago,” he offered, lifting his arm to allow her back into the space she’d vacated.  
She hesitated, watching him warily, before relenting and scooting back over to him. As soon as her cool skin pressed against his warm frame, he sighed in relief and pulled the sheet up around them even as she pushed it away from her. So, yeah, maybe he was sleeping with an insane Norse god who happened to have failed at taking over the world a few years back. But – but she was also this – was also a deviously brilliant woman with eyes like desire and a burning, possessive love. Sure, fire burnt out eventually and left cold ashes and destruction in its wake, but there was no reason to pour water on it when it was burning hot, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hope you guys liked it. I know it's kind of an...odd ending, but I really just wanted this to sort of pave the way for future stories in the series, so it's more of a sketch/gesture of the story rather than a fully fleshed out tale. I'm not sure if that makes sense...


End file.
